


Teaching

by lightningwaltz



Category: Messiah Project - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Gen, Unexpected Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-07
Updated: 2015-09-07
Packaged: 2018-04-19 13:13:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4747724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lightningwaltz/pseuds/lightningwaltz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>This must be what it’s like for Haku all the time. To be convinced you’re a jinx.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Teaching

**Author's Note:**

  * For [endgame](https://archiveofourown.org/users/endgame/gifts).



> Set right before the epilogue part in Dou no Shou. Written for the prompt “teach me how to play?”
> 
> I highly recommend rewatching all the works with these two characters with an eye to their interactions. They rarely have big scenes together, but there is tons and tons of background stuff that indicate Haku and Souma have a close friendship. This in pretty much in defiance of the rules, too. (Also in defiance of Haku's general tendency to be aloof.) It's very sweet in general.

Souma glances up from an app on his phone and discovers Haku lurking in his doorway. This is commonplace, right down to the long shadow slicing over Souma’s bed. Whenever there’s a need to kick Haku out of Eiri’s hospital room, the nurses work in seamless tandem to get him to Souma. They’ve never told him about this strategy of theirs, but it’s wholly obvious to Souma. He suspects Haku has picked up on it, too.

Not that it’s all easy going. The first time this had happened, Eiri had been in surgery. Haku’s hands had been clasped in front of him the whole time, and he had been cracking his knuckles until he’d probably wrung out all the bones in his fingers. Souma had been sans headband, and Haku, evidently disturbed by the lack of it, kept bringing it up. It had been the roadblock in every train of thought, every angle of the conversation. Souma had resorted to sending a discreet text message to Shuusuke, who had brought the missing accessory to their room. (Clever Shuusuke had stuck it in a care package, so that it didn’t look like a direct result of an S.O.S signal.) As soon as the headband was back on, Haku had sighed loud enough for the three of them. Then he had suddenly confessed he’d heard rumors that Eiri was going to be packed in _ice_ to treat his wounds.

Today, Haku isn’t distracted. He’s just quiet. That’s not necessarily a good thing. Haku is often quiet. His quirks speak much more than he ever does, and sometimes that’s all that people hear.

“Hey, Haku.”

It seems to wake him up a little. “What are you still doing here?” Haku raises his arm a little, and indicates the hospital room. “They told me you weren’t that injured.”

If it had been anyone else, Souma would have made some rude gesture, and said something like ‘nice to see you, too.’ If it had been under different circumstances, he might have even aimed a tempered version of that at Haku.

“Well, you know…” Souma sits up, then hauls himself out of bed as a visual demonstration. _See? I’m okay._ “Long-term dehydration is a pain. They’re mostly making sure I’m not having complications from having water again.”

“Oh.” Haku is being as laconic as he was in their earliest interactions. The effect of it all is even more severe because it's trailing after Souma's rambling explanation.

Souma is in the midst of calculating the perfect response, when Haku speaks again.

“So, when you were captive they didn’t give you water?” There’s something to his voice. A hint of anger.

“They did but…”

Of his two captives, the screechy, purposelessly violent one had always been the one to remember Souma had basic needs. He had expected that the guy would be the type to spill the water down Souma’s shirt as a cruel prank. Instead, whenever the time came, the captor had actually tried his best to take care of Souma. He had been almost gentle about it. But, even though he seemed sewn together out of sheer, rattling nerves, and his hands often shook when typing the cup over Souma’s mouth. The end result was the same; water spilling down Souma’s chin and onto the ground.

And then Souma had fought after being released. Had fought to get to Haku and Eiri after the latter had been shot. He’d sweated away whatever water remained in his system.

“So you didn't get enough.” Haku completes the thought. Muted, still, but Souma detects that his words are leaden with guilt.

“No,” he agrees, a little sick at heart. Souma hates moments like these, when he knows he’s failing to comfort someone. When his presence must be making it worse, in some ways.

This must be what it’s like for Haku all the time. To be convinced you’re a jinx.

Haku paces the room, noticing that the table is piled with games and magazines.

“You have Go.” 

“I do.” It’s a non-sequitur, but Souma grabs onto it with all he has. “I’ve never really learned how to play that, though.”

“I know how to play it.” Haku is flipping open the game. “Do you want me to teach you?”

Souma maneuvers the chairs so they can sit across each other. “Sure. That sounds nice. Who taught you?”

“I taught myself.” Haku doesn’t even look up. He’s too busy setting the pieces in their proper places. _Click, click, click_. His hands have always been rather elegant, but it can be easy to miss this about him. “I read the rules somewhere, then I would play games against myself.”

Hearing this- learning this- is kind of like being kicked in the gut. And Souma, over the past few days, has had ample experience in knowing exactly what that feels like. The sudden crunch that leads to an agonizing epicenter, and then the pain that lingers in waves and aftershocks. 

Souma touches one of the pieces. It’s ridiculously smooth. He tries to draw serenity from that, but it’s difficult. “There must be hundreds of different ways for this game to go, then.”

“The possibilities are 10 to the 761st power." Haku says this immediately. “So obviously I didn’t even make a dent in that. Anyway, here’s how you start…”

He’s not a bad teacher. Quite good, actually. Suddenly, Souma is interested in seeing what Haku would be like if someone put him in charge of training new recruits. Then he realizes he's in danger of not absorbing all the rules, so he redirects his focus to where it belongs in this particular moment.

Haku explains all the various steps, and with each new idea he stops to make sure Souma is getting it. In turn, it makes him want to pay attention. To demonstrate that he’s following along. After all, Souma remembers well what it’s like to teach. He remembers the satisfaction of knowing you left someone a little knowledgeable than before.

Eventually, Souma can play along without any guidance whatsoever. It’s a peaceful game. Sometimes Haku makes a distressed sound in reaction to some stupid play that Souma has just made. Haku’s mind must be a perpetual matrix of calculations and arrays. And yet Souma has never seen him less than focused. 

They play Go several times, and Souma begins to realize Haku has been dumbing down his own moves the whole time. He wonders what it would be like if Haku played to his full potential. A slaughter, probably.

“So, Eiri woke up today,” Haku announces, during the final stages of a round.

“That’s so good to hear!” Souma’s smile is instantaneous, but he also mirrors Haku’s demeanor. After all, he could have mentioned this hours ago, but chose not to do so. “How was that?”

“He just opened his eyes. He’s not talking. I was there, but I don’t think I annoyed him at all.”

Everything makes sense, all at once. Eiri is noise and grievance and motion. Eiri is an undeniable presence. And Eiri, at this very moment, is silent and still, plugged into a bunch of machines and tubes.

“You miss him,” Souma says, and Haku looks surprised to have a word for what he’s feeling. “But it won’t be long. Everyone is saying he’s past the worst of it.”

Souma can’t escape the feeling he’s offering meaningless platitudes (even though they’re all accurate.) But then he reminds himself that people just need to say things sometimes. They need to release whatever happens to be poisoning their spirit.

“Yeah. You’re right.” Haku makes his last move, and wins their latest game. Of course. He looks up at Souma, meeting his eyes for the first time in what seems like ages. “I’ve never actually played this with anyone before.”

“Was I terrible?”

“There’s room for improvement but… We can play again someday.”

“Of course.”


End file.
